


Porcelain, Ivory, Steel

by cateliot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: BUS Family - Freeform, Bahrain, Battle Scars, Episode: s01e20 Nothing Personal, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Strike Team Delta, partners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4551753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cateliot/pseuds/cateliot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before every Academy inductee knew “The Calvary”, a few knew “Melinda”. After S.H.I.E.L.D.’s fall, those that still defend their agency are scattered and being hunted. With HYDRA moving towards finishing their super soldiers with Garrett at the command, pushing forward to save the world might mean looking into the past. (Philinda, team fic, with guest Avengers, picks up at 1.20.) ON HIATUS DUE TO SEASON THREE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Disclaimer/Copyright: _This work of fiction is based on characters and settings created by Marvel Entertainment and affiliates. All recognizable characters, settings, and plot elements are copyright © Marvel Entertainment and their assignees, including The Walt Disney Company. The author believes this work falls within the scope of the Fair Use Doctrine as a transformative work. For more information, see the Organization for Transformative Works._ _All original characters, settings, and plot elements are copyright © Cate Eliot. This work of fiction is available for use under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC-BY-NC-SA 3.0) license._

::

**_“My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.” (George R. R. Martin)_ **

::

“I was hoping you’d come back.”

He knew it was her even before he saw her face. It was in her posture, the way she stood patiently, but at attention, as if her mere presence was holding up the building around her.

He couldn’t see her face. She moved with the shadows around her, blending in so well it was almost impossible to tell what was darkness and what was woman. His heart jumped and he stopped short at her arrival, the guilt of the words he had screamed at her, at his best friend, was still raw in his mind and judging by her posture, clearly in hers.

She was nervous, an expression he rarely saw of her, but he knew why. She wasn’t sure if he wanted her here and his heart crumbled a little more in his chest. His mind went blank with his rehearsed apology and like always, she was stronger than he was and broke the silence.

Coulson allowed the video to play through twice before he sat there numbly, just staring at the black screen. He mind was buzzing with noise that he couldn’t process and he blindly turned in the chair, looking in the still dark room for

She wasn’t more than an arm’s length away. She never was. He hadn’t heard her move from behind him to his right, back into his eye line. She always did know what he needed before he did.

“Did—”

His throat was raw, but she didn’t need him to finish.

“No, not until months after.”

He jerked his head in a nod and rubbed his palms over his heads, feeling exhaustion roll off him in waves. Ever since they had left Providence, running, his mind couldn’t stop imagining the worst, staying alert. He had Trip, a specialist, but the young agent had nothing on May. Coulson knew he couldn’t keep the others safe alone.

“Time for bed.”

Her tone was gentle, but left no room for argument and Phil rose up from the battered motel chair automatically. Her fingers were gentle in untying his tie. They had always had a fluidity to the way they moved around each other. In the old days, Clint Barton had called it chemistry.

The moon caught the side of her face and lit up her pale face with long smooth contouring shadows. Her fingers moved the blinds away as she watched the empty courtyard. It was a movement he had seen her do a million times, even now it captivated him. He always wondered if she did it on purpose.

In the time back at the Academy and early on in their missions together, he would have immediately said yes, she’d love to twist him around with her large intelligent eyes and quick tongue, but as the years went on, he wasn’t so sure.

She felt him watching her and her eyes flickered over to him without moving any of part of her body. He shrugged out of his button up without breaking eye contact and slipped into an old cotton shirt. May had moved back to analyzing the grounds.

He walked over to her, not truly realizing how much her presence calmed him until now. The back of his hand brushed hers and the contact immediately caught her attention.

“Stay?”

The fear and vulnerability was clear in his eyes and she conceded.

“I’ll wake you.”

Her unspoken objection was clear and the revelation about her nightmares sent him spinning through their last few months together on the Bus. How had he not know they had come back? He knew how, she was a master concealer; of pain, fear, of exhaustion, but he mentally kicked himself. He was supposed to be better than that. He was supposed to have her back.

“I don’t care.”

She shrugged out of her leather jacket without another word, slipping out of her boots and under the comforter with him. His body radiated warm as his arms curled around her waist. It felt like a moment of the old days. She smelled like jasmine; exotic and calming, and he found himself drifting off almost immediately.

Her nightmares woke them first.

He didn’t remember what he was dreaming, a muddled mixed T.A.H.I.T.I. mess he suspected, when her voice pulled him from it.

“Tíngzhǐ.” _'Stop'._

She hadn’t moved from his arms, but it was clear she was distressed. Her eyes moved under her eyelids and her body was tense. May twitched slightly in his arms. He ran his hand up and down her spine, “Melinda.” He kept his tone quiet and calm.

“Qǐng tíngzhǐ.” _'Please stop.'_

Her name seemed to settle her slightly and she stopped moving, but her mutterings continued, barely louder than a whisper. “Wǒ - wǒ bùnéng—Xiǎo nǚhái? Nǎ lái de xiǎo nǚhái?” _'I-I can't.  The little girl...where's the little girl?'_

He felt a familiar wound reopen as he watched her fight an opponent he couldn’t see. “Melinda, I need you to focus on my voice. Everything’s all right, no one is in danger,” he said soothingly. “You’re okay.”

“Qǐng bùshì tā. Shānghàile wǒ, ér bùshì.” _'Please not him.  Hurt me instead.'_

She was talking too quickly for him to keep up with her Chinese. He ran a hand through her hair, feeling her normally cool skin feverishly hot.

Coulson couldn’t wake her; after Bahrain he quickly learned that whatever was going on in her mind was too powerful for him to rip her from. He had made the mistake of trying to shake her once, desperate to try anything to stop the tears, and ended up being thrown through a mirror. The sound of breaking glass wasn’t enough to wake her; only May could do that.

He had however learned to be very good at trying to quiet them away.

“Everything’s okay, try to breathe.”

She still and for the next few minutes he listens to her breathing before he’s sure that for this moment, her ghosts have settled.

He drifted off again.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family reunion at the motel.

Coulson was cozy and warm as he drifted back into consciousness until he realized that the other side of the bed was empty. A jolt tore through him and he sat straight up in bed. _Where was May?_ Panic was like ice water in his veins. Sunlight filtered through the blinds that Melinda had closed creating a strange crisscrossed pattern on the ugly motel carpet.

He found her across the room.

She was calmly doing her morning tai chi; twirling and balancing with complex movements he knew he couldn’t imagine being able to complete. It was clear she had been watching him sleep, not that he minded.

He felt his heartrate slow slightly as his eyes tracked her movements.

“What time is it?”

“A little after nine,” she replied, not moving from her tai chi. He fell back against the pillows, stunned. He hadn’t slept that late in years though he knew the reason for that was standing right in front of him. “Skye has been pacing outside the door for the last hour trying to decide whether you’re just sleeping or something’s happened and she should break it down with her brute force.”

A dopey grin lit up Coulson’s face at her sarcasm.

A small smile echoed off her features in response, but it was gone as soon as it came.

Coulson sat up on the comforter and folded his legs underneath him. “So what’s the plan? This isn’t the greatest place to be launching an attack against HYDRA. We’ve been here almost a week and being that we’re all wanted terrorist I’m not sure staying is the best idea.”

The brunette raised an eyebrow at the question, her arms twisting around each other like two snakes before extending in opposite directions.

“You’re the boss, I go where you go.”

“Cute,” he mocked with a glare. She smirked and he missed her smiles, even if it was at his expense. It hit him then, that he hadn’t really ever been the boss, if what May had revealed was true, and he knew it was, she had pulled all the strings, made all the hard calls and stood back and let him take the lead, let him be the boss.

They were partners; they had always been a pair, working in sync. In the Academy he had found her fascinating. Everything she did was terrifyingly inhuman. The way she fought with a grace and volatility he never could expect from such a tiny human being. The way nothing seemed to phase her, no twist in the mission, no betrayal.

They two of them were to completely different It was a strange thing for a Specialist, especially one as good as May to not work alone, but their partnership was something rare. He was emotional and she was decisive. He was cool while she was fiery.

He steadied her and she protected him.

Even after Bahrain, when one moment everything was fine and the next every ounce of his Melinda was gone replaced by another one, a foreign one, he marveled at the way she taped the broken shards back together and managed to continue to keep breathing.

May noticed his change in demeanor and she paused momentarily in her tai chi.

“Phil?”

His throat was closed with emotion.

“You’ve always made better choices than me.”

God, he was an idiot. She had just been trying to protect him and he had marked her a traitor, the very thing Melinda couldn’t stand. He opened his mouth to express just that when he was cut off.

The sharp knock on the door made May’s hand go immediately for the gun sitting on the ratty dresser. It was cocked with the safety clicked off before the sound even stopped. Phil paused soundlessly on the edge of the bed, eyeing the woman pointing the Glock at the closed door.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey, A.C.,” Skye’s voice called through the door continuing to pound on it with her fist. May’s hand dropped her to her side like it was dead weight and Skye continued, “Trip snagged breakfast so hurry up or nothing will be left.”

Coulson pinched his eyes shut with a groan. “Yeah okay. I’ll be out in a minute,” he replied.

It was clear Melinda was just as shaken as he was about the last few weeks. The sting of betrayal and the collapse of everything they had dedicated their lives to was still very fresh on Coulson’s mind. He knew it was still racing through May’s mind; her jumpiness was proof of that.

He moved out of bed and grabbed the shirt he had thrown on the back of the chair atop Melinda’s jacket. Coulson heard Melinda unload the pistol and the _cling_ of the metal as it sat back on the wooden furniture. He took his time with each of the buttons giving her time to collect her mask before he looked back up.

He knew all too well that everything he was feeling, she was feeling tenth fold and it shone in her eyes when he looked up.

“Breakfast?”

She had resumed her tai chi. “I’ll come out as soon as I finish.”

He noticed the worry in her eyes, but didn’t remark on it.

“I’ll save you some food,” he called over his shoulder. He didn’t turn back to see if that inspired a smirk. He shut the door behind him and walked around the end of the hall to where the rest of his rag tag team was assembling around a large glass pool table.

“Good morning, sir,” Jemma called to him, flashing him a smile as he walked over. She looked washed out compared to her Bus self. Her hair had less of a bounce to it and her smiles seemed purely for the benefit of Fitz, who seemed to be crushed Ward’s betrayal.

Fitz sat beside her, playing with a stack of pancakes, looking tired and wrinkled. He gave a wave as he chewed. Agent Tripplett echoed Jemma’s formal hello. The Specialist was the only one of the group that didn’t look like could fall apart at any moment. Phil could clearly see his training kicking into high gear, allowing him to adapt with a flexibility the others weren’t programmed with.

“Decide to finally get up A.C.?” Skye called over from her chair. She looked calm and bored, but not as out of place as FitzSimmons. “We’ve got breakfast burritos, pancakes, bacon, and coffee.” She waved her fork in the air a little as she pointed to each item on the morning’s menu.

“Yum.” He nodded and sat down on one of the long pool chairs next to the hacktivist, leaving plenty of room for Melinda when she chose to make her arrival known.

“So I was thinking, sir,” Tripplett began hesitantly, “that we may need to change locations soon. I know I have absolutely no authority here and I respect that…and you,” he added quickly, “it’s just that we’ve been here almost a week. It might be time to come up with a plan.”

Phil smiled gently at the younger agent’s way of telling him to _get it together_. He heard the open and close of the motel room door behind him. “Actually, speaking of plans, one happened to appear last night and decided to stay a while.”

Confusion echoed on everyone features, until Tripplett suddenly stood from the table. Phil didn’t have to turn to know May had rounded the corner. The other looked confused from Coulson to Tripp, until they glanced in the direction the spy was facing.

“May!”

Skye’s fork clattered to the table with a half bitten piece of pancake dribbling syrup onto the glass. Next to her, Fitz’s eyes grew wide as his mouth dropped.

Simmons’ face lit up immediately and she jumped to her feet happily. Her exuberance seemed to make May surprised and the young biochemist blushed. “Errr, I mean, Agent May, how lovely to see you again.”

That seemed to make Melinda amused. “Hello Jemma.” The smile seemed to ease the girl’s awkwardness and Simmons grinned happily.

“Welcome home, we missed you.”

Fitz echoed after his other half, though it was clear that the incident with the ICER was still in the forefront of his mind.

Skye leapt out of her seat without out a sound other than a loud metal on concrete scrape from her chair. She crashed into the smaller Chinese woman, almost knocking May over with the force of her hug.

Phil shot up from his chair warily and May’s large brown eyes flashed dangerously. Across the table, he felt Tripp’s eyes on him. _Damn it, Skye_ , he swore in his mind as he watched May struggle. If she struck out at the younger Agent, she wouldn’t forgive herself for it.

The hug had come out of nowhere and would have looked almost identical to an attack to the spy. Even before Bahrain sent her into a hyper-vigilant spiral which Phil was sure she never truly came out of, May never was one for physical contact. The younger woman sobbed around May’s neck, completely oblivious to the struggle of the senior agent.

“Skye,” May’s voice was quiet, but her distress was clear.

“Skye, you’re going to suffocate, May.” Jemma’s tone was gentle, but that only seemed to make the hacktivist hold tighten her arms around May’s neck and waist.

The girl mumbled something into May’s shoulder before another round of tears make her shake. The only one who seemed to make any sense of this was Jemma. “She wasn’t with us,” Simmons said, her eyes widening with realization, “She didn’t see the footage from the Bus.”

Coulson’s blue eyes jumped from Jemma back to May and Skye. May was stock still and he wasn’t quite sure she was breathing, her fingers shook with a barely noticeable tremor; all the trademarks of her feeling trapped, one of the most dangerous spots a Specialist could be stuck in.

Finally May swallowed and moved; her arms which had been floating helplessness near her waist tentatively patted the girl’s back. It seemed to calm the girl enough to try and speak.

“I th-thought y-y-youweredead,” Skye managed in between sobs. “Hh-he said you l-left and I-I t-thought—”

More sure this time, May’s arms wrapped around Skye. The words shared between the two didn’t reach Coulson’s eyes, despite his closeness, but as they sunk it, Skye’s sobs got quieter and quieter and her hold on May looser and looser. May’s body seemed to relax just a fraction.

Coulson tentatively lowered himself back into the chair.

“Oh my god,” Skye said jumping back slightly and scrubbing at her tearstained with her palms, “I am _so_ sorry. Just ignore me, god I’m such a mess. As you were. Burritos anyone?” she gave a nervous laugh and moved back to her seat, cheeks flushed.

Simmons chattered away, and Skye and the rest of the table joined in like nothing had happened and the last week had been another day at the office. Coulson smiled slightly at their resilience.

Perhaps they would be okay.

His hand found May’s wrist under the table as she sat down next to him. He gently squeezed, not looking towards the Chinese warrior, but holding on long enough to clearly convey his message.

_I’m proud of you._

And as his hand let go, her smaller one moved, lacing her fingers in his for a brief moment before slipping it away.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May and Coulson come up with a plan, much to Skye's delight.

“We need to find somewhere more secure. They’re not going to be able to last much longer here. FitzSimmons especially,” May’s tone was casual as they watched their group play cards on the edge of the pool.

There was a sharp buzzing on the glass table and the Chinese woman leaned forward to look at the screen of the phone. May rolled her eyes before declining the call.

“All right?”

Annoyance flashed through May’s eyes and she leaned back in the chair, her aviator glasses falling back onto her face. “It’s just Stark. Don’t worry about it.” Phil frowned slightly. What did the Avenger want with Melinda? He wasn’t aware they even knew each other.

“Stop thinking so hard, Phil, I can hear it from here.”

He forced himself to try and clear his mind, but the curiosity was an annoying nag in the back of his mind. Meditation was a skill he never managed to grasp.

“All our current safe houses are compromised. Anything we had through S.H.I.E.L.D. are off the table, too. We don’t know how far the extent of HYRDA’s reach is.”

He sighed, but knew it was true. They literally had to start from scratch. Everything he had built since he was twenty and starting in the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy was gone, reduced to ashes.

“What’s he want?” He tried to sound nonchalant, casual, but knew by the pause in his best friend’s voice that he failed.

“To offer me a job.”

That made him jump to attention and flip to face her. The thought of May leaving him to work in the private sector with Stark rip a hole in his chest more painful than being stabbed by an Asgardian septum. She’d like it though; working with Maria again, calling all her own shots, her own picking her own team.

May hadn’t moved from looking out at the pool and the kids, but it was hard for her to keep a smirk off her features.

“Take a breath, Phil.”

The phone buzzed again and Phil leaned forward to clearly see “ANDREW” buzzing on the front. May’s face had gone intentionally blank and he was sitting close enough to feel her breathing pattern change from her natural, controlled in and out to a much for forced, lengthy exhale.

“You gonna answer it?” he probed gently.

She swallowed once and didn’t meet his eyes.

“Nope.”

He didn’t say anything else and leaned back in the chair, waiting for her to continue, if she was going to say anymore on the subject at all. A few seconds later after the buzzing was silenced and the light on the phone faded, she spoke again.

“If he’s that worried he’ll call my mother.”

The two partners turned to look at each other as the same thought coursed through their minds. “Her house wouldn’t be in any database. I’m not even sure it’s accessible by roads. All my safe houses outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. are overseas. The closest is in Turkey. We can’t get through TSA together without getting spotted.”

“Would she be okay with all of us coming?”

On the few occasions he had met May’s mother, she remained just as much a mystery as her daughter.

“I don’t see why not.”

The part she left off was clear as he glanced over at FitzSimmons and the rest of the team. He and May could make it out of the country and through the roadblocks Talbot had set up easily, Tripplett too, but the rest of the group had no experience trying to disappear. And this wasn’t the time to learn.

“You never did like this country.”

May didn’t respond to that, but graceful moved to her feet, the sat phone in her hand. Her hands pressed the numbers quickly as May moved into the shadows. The call was answered quickly and Phil could hear May slip quickly into Chinese.  

“Xǐ māmā.”

The little Chinese May had taught him over the years wasn’t enough to follow a full conversation with her mother and he didn’t try to keep up. However the sound of the language, despite it being foreign, was soothing.

“What’s happenin’ A.C.?” Skye said taking May’s now vacant seat, watching the Chinese woman pace back and forth between the pool and the hallway that led to their motel rooms.

“May and I think we have a place to lay low for a while.”

“Really?”

There was a light in her eyes that Coulson hadn’t seen since before Providence. He nodded and she smiled brightly. For a moment, he realized that she had lost the first home she actually chose for herself. He and May weren’t the only ones whose only home had been reduced to nothing in the last few weeks.

“Is that Mandarin?” she asked, leaning back in the chair and exaggeratedly crossing her legs. Coulson hid an amused smile. She acted so much like a very young May sometimes.

“Cantonese, I think. Or a mix of the two. May’s mother—”

“May has a mother?”

Phil shot her a look.

“Sorry, it’s just…you’re sure she wasn’t born of dragon fire? Forged from the golden sword of an Asgardian warrior? I’m just sayin’.”

Coulson chuckled and Skye beamed at his reaction.

“I’m glad she’s back,” the hacker said. Her voice had lost some of its teasing and deflection, revealing something harder, more concrete underneath. “It just feels safer with her here. Like we’re gonna make it you know.”

Coulson’s eyes found May. Her back was turned away from them and as he looked at her she must have felt him watching because she turned back around to meet his gaze. Her sunglasses shaded her eyes from his, but he felt the sides of his mouth turn up slightly.

He nodded. He knew exactly what she meant.

_::_

Skye was bouncy with excitement. She had packed in a rush and then moved across the hall to Coulson’s room. The door was cracked open and she knocked a little before skipping inside.

“Hey A.C.”

Her eyes marked that both sides of the bed had been slept in, May’s leather jacket slung on the back of one of the motel chairs and her heart leapt a little bit at the prospect. “So what’s May’s mom like?” Skye asked interestedly as she sat on the bed, watching Coulson pack precisely. Her mind was running a million miles an hour with questions.

What was she like? Did she look just like May? Were they going to see the house that May grew up in? What should she call her? Mrs. May sounded strange even inside of her mind, but Mama May? Would May be okay with that? She had never seen May in that kind of position—would she act differently around her mother? Would her mom tell stories from when May was a teenager?

Coulson looked up briefly from his packing before shrugging, “She’s intense and serious and strict. She worked pretty high up in her own agency before she retired—”

“So she’s just like May?”

Coulson chuckled, “No, not really,” he said.

It was true. Though the two women were similar in looks and in occupation, they were two very different people. Having lived with his mother, even through his father death, up until he was recruited for S.H.I.E.L.D. he never quite understood their relationship. For the time both he and May were in the Academy together and into their first few missions, he knew they were basically estranged over her choice of agency.

“Secretary May? You mean one of the most powerful women in—”

Skye and Coulson glanced up to find Jemma walking inside after gently setting her black duffle bag down next to Skye’s book bag. The young scientist wore a purple knitted sweater over her jeans and boots.

“That’d be the one,” Coulson said with a smirk as Jemma came to sit down next to Skye on the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap. “She however doesn’t like me very much.”

“If she didn’t like you, you wouldn’t be walking around.”

The two glanced up from Coulson’s packing to see May in the doorway watching their exchange. She looked calmer than she did earlier that morning.

“Maybe she’s just waiting for me to make a wrong move,” Coulson suggested, an eyebrow raised for emphasis. The two girls turned towards the doorway, waiting for Chinese woman’s reply.

May simply rolled her eyes.

“I’ll protect you.”

He smiled brightly and zipped the duffle bag on the table loudly. When he glanced back up May held up a pair of keys between her two forefingers in response.

“Where’d you get that?” Simmons asked interestedly, “I thought Commander Hill took Lola back to Stark Industries with her, not that we could all fit in anyways.”

Coulson and May shared a knowing look and Skye choked back a snort.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team meets the mysterious Lian May and are safe...for now.

“So is your mom a kick ass super spy too?” Skye groaned as she almost fell out of the van that had driven them six hours towards the coast in California. May rolled her eyes and her eyes swept the area carefully, analyzing something in the wind and the trees that the hacker didn’t know or understand.

“Secretary May was an undercover agent, working with violent organized crime in MI6.”

Skye tilted her head a little. Did A.C. seem nervous? His hands seemed a little jumpy as he unloaded one of the duffle bags from the trunk.

“So does she know about S.H.I.E.L.D.’s collapse and HYDRA? Technically she’s harboring known FBI’s most wanted fugitives—” Tripp had been the lucky one, riding in the way back of the van, avoiding the long, long debate FitzSimmons had over the weather patterns of the city dealing with the frequent earthquakes caused by the moving tectonic plates and an appalling game of ‘ _if I was on the Index, what power would I have and why’_.

“Way to be a downer there, 007,” Skye said raising an eyebrow as she shrugged on her backpack from the van’s trunk. The others rushed to keep up with May and Coulson who both were already meters ahead of them.

“Oh she knows,” May’s voice was quiet, but carried across the misty forest ethereally, “it’s her ultimate ‘I told you so’ moment.” There was an undertone of bitterness that Skye had never heard from the warrior. She wasn’t sure if it was directed at her mother or at S.H.I.E.L.D.

The leaves were wet from an evening storm that they had driven through on the way up. The spring air was growing warmer and buds were beginning to develop on lower bushes. There was a hum in the air that she hadn’t heard in the city or on the plane. It was fresh and unknown.

“Is this the house you grew up in, Agent May?”

May seemed to find something funny in Simmons’ question because she smirked as they cut through the trees. “No, this was my mother’s favorite safe house while she was an agent. Since it was never compromised, she retired into it.”

The group cleared through the vegetation and what they found wasn’t what Skye expected.

The large homey farmhouse was the exact opposite of the iron caged bunker in the ground she had been picturing in her head on the way there. It looked to be two stories with faded dark wood on the outside. The door was a robin’s egg blue. There had to be a view from the backside of the house, she assumed, with a large wrap around porch that just screamed to be used. It reminded her immediately of a perfect cabin hideaway in the woods, something she had imagined in the orphanage as an escape before she knew better than to hope.

As they neared the steps, a gun materialized out from the back waistband of May’s pant.

“Oh goodness.” Jemma cringed a little bit at the sight of the metal and Skye cut in front of her before she could say anything else.

“If your mom lives here, why do we need the gun?”

“Just in case someone else got here first,” May replied, not looking at the girl as they walked up the rest of the steps. May’s free hand moved to the paneling in the door near the door and it slid back with an electronic hiss, revealing a touch screen device. The characters were Chinese and foreign.

“What the hell.”

“It looks like a mobile security system wired through to the doors and windows,” Fitz answered, moving to the other side of Coulson. His eyes narrowed on the barrel of May’s gun warily.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t do that—” he began as May’s fingers moved silently across the Chinese character buttons typing in a password before a loud beeping cut her off. A wave of agitation crossed the pilot’s face.

“We could just kn…”

The front door slid open with a loud crack. May’s gun snapped up and the older Chinese woman who stood in the doorway didn’t flinch.

“Bǎ nàgè dōngxī líkāi, Qiaolian.” _‘Put that thing away, Qiaolian’._

May’s hand dropped with the command from the older woman and she let out an agitated sigh. “Māmā, nǐ shénme shíhòu dédào yīgè bǎozhàng tǐxì?” _‘Mom, when did you get a security system?’_

The older May opened the door and allowed Skye and the rest of the group caught sight of more than just her head for the first time. She was a tiny woman, even shorter than May but she had an air about her that seemed to make her bigger, more commanding.

Her hair was dark black and short, not falling all the way to her shoulders. Her eyes were sharp and brown, moving across the visitors faces with precision.

“Nǐ yǒngyuǎn bù kěnéng tài xiǎoxīn, zhèxiē tiān. Rúguǒ nín lái tànwàng wǒ duō, shìqíng huì rèndé nǐ,” she continued. ‘You can never be too careful these days. If you came to visit me more, the thing would recognize you.’

The woman ushered them into the entry way where they banished their shoes on the dark hardwood floors.

“Phillip.”

Skye had never heard anyone call Coulson anything other than “sir” or “Coulson” so “Phillip” sounded hilarious. If before she hadn’t been sure if her boss was nervous, she was sure now. He folded his hands behind him to stop them from fidgeting.

“Secretary May.”

She tilted her head a little to the left like she was dissecting him in her mind before speaking again. “At least she isn’t shot this time,” Lian grumbled as Coulson passed.

“Nà shì yīcì, māmā,” May called over her shoulder and she could almost hear the eye roll in her voice. _‘That was once, Mom.’_

“Twice.”

Her English had a strong Chinese accent and Skye wondered if May ever had an accent of any kind. She had heard her speak in at least three different languages, but it hadn’t crossed her time that she wasn’t American. With FitzSimmons, they sounded like where they were from.

“No, she’s right, the first time it was a stab wound,” Coulson chimed in and the look that Lian gave him was identical to the one May usually had. Skye couldn’t keep the smile off her face as Coulson bit his lip.

May and her mother seemed to have their own side conversation going and the only one who seemed to follow any part of it was A.C. as the two women showed everyone their rooms. The inside of the house was as warm as the outside. Different eclectic artwork lines the walls representing a variety of cultures; some she recognized—Chinese, Russian, African, and others she couldn’t place.

She and Simmons were sharing a room. The walls were a pleasant shade of lavender and had double beds with a large window facing the southern end of the property. The house was a warm; it wasn’t something she could define in the décor or the furniture, but the atmosphere of the house made her feel safer.

She fell asleep seconds after her head hit the pillow.

*AOS*

Phil found his way clumsily into the kitchen, sleep evident in his steps. His hand almost knocked over the stack of coffee cup next to the machine. The kitchen was large and open aired. The cabinets were cherry and the soft white marble countertops reflected the light coming in the large bay windows.

Outside on the deck, Melinda was pacing. Coulson smiled gently as he watched her pace swiftly back and forth, her hand pressed up to the side of her face, phone angled just slightly. “She’s been like that all day.”

Coulson jerked forward to see Lian May standing in the doorway, watching him watching Melinda. He brought up the cup to his lips, giving him a chance to wake up, before answering.

“Has she—”

“Slept?” Lian finished for him. “Not yet. I got her to sit down a few hours ago, but she’s been running around since the rest of your ducklings fell asleep.”

Phil sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Melinda never did know how to rest. The clock on the edge of the oven read out a digital 5:48 P.M. The sun was beginning to toast from blue to red and orange over the porch.

“I am curious, however, what you said to my daughter that made her reenter the field.” The older May’s eyes were hard and inquiring; a mix he wasn’t used to seeing on her.

“I’m sorry?”

“What you told her? To make her go back into field work.”

“I don’t know. When I approached her she seemed rather reigned to the idea.”

His tongue felt funny as he replayed the scene in his mind, going over their conversation in detail, but it seemed Lian was thinking the same thing he was realizing.

“It didn’t strike you as odd that she just agree to enter—a place she swore never to return to?”

Coulson swallowed and his eyes found May pacing outside. Something knotted uncomfortably in his stomach. He remembered after Bahrain when Melinda disappeared, only to have her reappear months later, refusing to go back into the field. No amount of his pleading, Fury’s yelling, or Natasha’s nudges had been enough to convince her.

Melinda turned, as if feeling his eyes, and held his gaze for a moment before turning to continue her pacing across the porch. Coulson let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding and looked back at Lian.

“I don’t know…I—” he revealed, he opened his mouth to continue only to be cut off by Skye entering the kitchen.

“Morning,” she greeted them all with a nervous smile. Her gaze lingered on Lian for a moment before moving back to Coulson.

“Uh, evening actually,” Coulson said with a nod to the clock.

“Right,” she said smoothly, “we’re becoming nocturnal now.” Her eyes shone a little brighter than they had the previous day and Phil felt his heart lift slightly.

“Only while we’re on vacation, girl.”

The group looked up as Tripp entered the kitchen, seeming to put Skye into a little more ease with May’s mother who slipped away into the back room quietly with only Phil noticing. The coffee disappeared from the rest from the pot as cups were passed around.

“I checked on Fitz. He’s still out of it.”

The hint of hesitancy in Tripp’s voice told him the Specialist wasn’t sure of his position in this little rag tag team and if his concern would be well received. It was.

“Yeah, Simmons was still asleep when I left, too.”

The door to the porch slid open quietly and May slipped back inside. She looked tired; he could tell that simply by her posture. Her eyes scanned the room before walking forward and she set the burner phone down on the counter next to the open and running laptop. He had noticed it when he walked in, but the fast scrolling Chinese characters meant nothing to him.

“News?” he asked gently and Melinda sighed.

“That was Blake. They recovered Victoria’s body. Two shots, one to the chest, a second to the head, both close range. The others were executed, single tap to the chest, all five of them. I signed to let Isabel take her body.”

Coulson felt the bile at the back of his throat rise. He nodded. In these situations, Melinda always thought about everything.

“Any word on the Bus’ whereabouts?”

“None. I have feelers out, but with all the sudden ripples it could be a few days before any assets feel comfortable enough to move on any intel. Between the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s high level agents being taken into custody by Talbot or flipping with HYDRA, were at a serious disadvantage.”

May’s eyes were shadowed.

Their years as partners was the only thing that allowed him to see the sadness washing over her features. The shift in her posture, the twitch of her fingers at her side, the deflection in her eyes.

“I sent Blake in Stark’s direction. I’m sure he could use another good agent,” Melinda continued, moving away from the computer towards the coffee pot and tea set sitting on the countertop. The routine of her movements were soothing as Phil watched her. His own cup was lukewarm.

“She and Blake were my Supervising Officers while I was in the Academy.” Tripp’s voice was dipped in sorrow.

“I thought Garrett was your SO?” Skye asked suddenly after the silence was too much.

“Nah, I was just working under Garrett for the last few years. He was the head of a unit running Specialists. Blake was a high ranking tactical operative before some freak op in the desert had him injured.”

Coulson’s eyes flickered up to May sharply. Her hand paused briefly on the teapot handle before continuing to smoothly add the tea leaves.

“He almost a leg, though apparently they all almost didn’t make it out. He was never one to talk about it, anyways, after that he moved to non-combative operations. That’s how he ended up as my SO. He’s a good man, solid agent.”

“Well, I was kind of hoping Ward and all his little friends went down in a plane crash or something by now,” Skye said, taking a large sip of coffee as a soft silence fell upon the four agents.

“I was twenty four my first time.”

Skye choked dramatically on the coffee in her mouth as her cheeks flamed red and she whirled to face him.

“Whaaa—what the hell?”

Tripp’s eyes widened comically as he looked from Coulson to May and back to Skye. “You guys don’t play the game here? Come on, is it just an Ops thing?”

Coulson chuckled loudly and May smirked, turning to lean against the counter. “He’s talking about his first hit,” he clarified.

The hacker’s eyebrows shot up. “So what, this is like a contest or something? See which of you has the best stories?”

“Not exactly,” Coulson said, “it started as a way to piss off a therapist apparently. This was back at the genesis of S.H.I.E.L.D. mind you, Peggy Carter’s time, and everyone in the Operations Academy went around the room and shared the first time they had crossed someone off. Kind of like a bonding activity, and then they went into their psych evals and switched stories with another agent.”

He neglected to mention that every time they mentioned their hits, their murders, it became a little more bearable, a little more normal, a little easier to breathe.

Skye’s face lit up with a smirk. “I’m sure that went over well.”

Coulson smirked, “none of the stories matched up with the files, making the shrink’s job very hard.”

Skye turned to face the dark skinned agent. “All right, let’s hear GI Joe.”

Tripplet cleared his throat dramatically and Coulson smiled “My first year on the job. Twenty four. I was with a major case unit at the time. One of two Specialists and we were tracking down a serial case. Twelve victims in three weeks…by the time we caught the guy he was running. The man was an ex-marine, Special Forces. My fellow Specialist and I engaged on the side of a marina, near his chop shop. I remember it being like in one of those pin ball machines, every time we swung at him, he would keep popping back up and take down piece of us with him. Near the edge of the water, I swung a punch and he went down. Hit his head on the side of some rocks…he didn’t get back up.”

“That’s it?”

Skye was clearly unimpressed.

“I didn’t claim to be an assassin, just a _very dashing_ spy who knows how to have a good time,” he said with a pout. Skye laughed and the sound lit up the kitchen. She ran a hand through her messy hair.

“Well I’ve never _crossed off_ anyone.” Her hands air quoted dramatically, “but the first time I was undercover I had to disarm Ian Quinn after I hacked my way into one of his parties.”

“Ian Quinn, the scientist?”

An ugly look passed over Skye’s eyes at his name, but it was gone as soon as it came. “That’s the one. Anyways, I followed the steps that I had been taught that morning and managed to get the gun. I stood there, pointing at him, but I knew I couldn’t pull the trigger. My hand was shaking even holding the thing.”

“So what did you do?”

“I jumped out the window into a pool instead.”

Tripp laughed loudly, “And Quinn didn’t try to follow you?”

Skye’s arms turned to curl around her waist loosely and her smile fell short. “He did, but…uh _Ward_ …he um, he took care of them.”

A silence fell over the group at the name of their former team mate. Coulson’s eyes traced Skye’s sudden cold withdrawal from the conversation and he glanced between them, trying to figure out how to fix it.

“I was eleven,” May’s voice was smooth and Skye’s eyes perked up almost immediately. “Turkish mercenary. I pushed him through a window.”

Phil’s chest swelled with affection for his partner as Skye turned towards May with wide, interested eyes; the previous moment forgotten. “I’m going to go ahead and ask the obvious question that everyone’s thinking at the moment,” Skye began, “why were you being attacked by a Turkish mercenary at eleven years old?”

May leaned back calmly against “My mother had flown out to London for the afternoon. We were living in the Ukraine as the time. They had been the back up on a case she had been working. They came looking for her and found me.”

“Made quite a mess too.” The group turned to see Lian appear from around the corner with a folded piece of paper. “Never did quite get the stain out of the carpet.”

Skye seemed mildly horrified at that. Coulson spoke as Lian handed the paper off to May. “I was twenty three. Just your basic fire fight on my second mission after I graduated from the Academy. A cartel enforcer. Two taps right to the chest,” he revealed with a sigh.

“How old were you when you were accepted?” Trip’s curiosity questioned.

“Twenty, right out of high school. I traveled a year right after my graduation and then was recruit when I returned back home before I went to college.”

He watched May’s eyes scan the paper swiftly before refolding it and nodding sharply to her mother. Their soft conversation was soothing and lilting, but foreign enough to make him almost miss Tripp’s next comment.

“That has to be some kind of record, sir.”

“Is that young?” Skye’s lack of S.H.I.E.L.D. background was showing as Tripp enthusiastically nodded.

“Very young. Most of the recruits are twenty three to twenty five these days. I was considered young at twenty three my year.”

“I was young, Maria Hill was nineteen when Fury snatched her and,” Coulson turned to smile widely at May, “this was one was recruited at seventeen.”

“You’re joking.”

Phil shook his head with an amused smile as Tripp gaped at May. The Chinese woman refused to make eye contact with any of them and glared fiercely towards Coulson. “Nope, stole her right out the nose of the C.I.A.”

“You were recruited at seventeen for the C.I.A.?” Skye’s tone was skeptical.

“The Agency recruits a number of people with specialized covert talents. Just like Mossad has Kidon units or MI6 has black operations, even S.H.I.E.L.D. has shadow agents. Age isn’t a prerequisite for value,” May defended calmly, taking a sip of tea from the white porcelain tea cup.

“Why the change of heart?” Trip asked, cradling his coffee cup and watching May intently.

His eyes were slightly downcast and his tone was a little more polite, less casual. Coulson couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips. He may be Tripplett’s boss, but Melinda was a legend and clearly the Specialist knew just who she was and what she had done.

May glanced once at her mother and her eyes lingered on Phil before replying.

“The Director made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two fun facts for this chapters: “Lian” is a Chinese girls name meaning “the graceful willow” or “lotus”. It’s also used in Latin and English, and can sometimes be a boy’s name. Melinda’s middle name, “Qiaolian” is Chinese as well, and means “always skillful”. We find out her middle name during Koenig’s interrogation at Providence base. Reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated! c.e.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons finds some comfort.

Jemma Simmons felt the tears drip down her face before childishly pushing them away with her palms. Her hand drifted down from pressing the machine to her ear and tightened her hand around it painfully. Her knuckles turned white as her stomach turned, twisted like knots as she struggled to breathe as the realization of what she just heard came crashing down.

“Jemma?”

Simmons opened her eyes and her vision blurred with tears. She blinked rapidly as May swam into view. Her body shook as May’s hand came to gently take her shoulders and ease her onto the bench near the side of the house. May’s grip was firm, but warm.

“I’m sorry—I…it…”

“Simmons, this is a lot to process through,” May’s tone was quiet, but soothing.

Jemma shook her head, running her sleeve across her nose, feeling childish as a woman she admired watched her fall apart. “No—it’s not that…I just…”

May was quiet, but her eyes never left the biochemist’s face. And the silence was oddly comforting as Jemma forced herself to swallow and tried again. “I tried to call my parents, to update them I guess. To explain, but—but they didn’t pick up…and neither did Fitz’s mother.” The tears came back full force and by the time they cleared again, there was a growing wet streak on her purple shirt.

It was several moments before she spoke again.

“It’s stupi—I should have _known_ , I mean with HYDRA being out there on the loose—and…” The words came tumbling like waterfall that overflowed and she felt the panic on her insides spill onto the outside.

“ _Jemma_.”

The sound of her first name was so shocking and so strange that Simmons fell silent. May’s eyes were intently focused on her, pouring over her face and over body position. “When the HYDRA threat was revealed, I made a call to one of my contacts at MI6. I had him place your parents and Fitz’s mother into protective custody. That’s why they’re not picking up, they’re in a safe house.”

Blood thundered into her ears as the realization of just what May was saying registered to her mind.

“You…you hid them?”

May nodded gently.

Only then did Simmons’ realizes that the Chinese woman’s hand was sitting comfortingly on her knee. To an outsider, it would appear to be a thoughtless touch, but Simmons suspected it was much, much more than that. May never did anything without it being thought out first and the message in the one touch weighed more than a dozen of Skye’s flamboyant hugs.

“I…I don’t know what to say…I wouldn’t have even thought to…”

Simmons squeezed May’s hand tightly hoping to convey to the older woman just how much it meant to her. “I’ll send a message to my contact, see if they’ve gone black on the house or if you and Fitz can get in a secure line to them.”

“Thank you.”

A moment of silence stretched between them before Simmons asked the next question weighing the most on her mind.

“What are we going to do now?”

May moved restlessly next to her and stood, flexing gracefully before leaning back on the dark wood railing. “You have options. Most of the S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives are making deals with the FBI in exchange for immunity or positions in the newer agencies for inside information on HYDRA, cases they’ve worked, or information on the higher ups. You could make a similar deal. Those who were higher up in the hierarchy have moved into the private sector, black ops CIA, Stark Industries.”

Simmons eyed the gorgeous sky behind May. She forced herself to breathe a few times before saying one of the thousands of thoughts coursing through her brain at that moment.

“You and Coulson are going after Garrett and Ward.”

May inclined her head slightly.

“This is not a sanctioned op. There is no backup, no agency to hide underneath, no superiors or instructions. We are on our own. Coulson and I have operated off the grid on missions before, so has Agent Tripplett. You and Fitz are not field agents or specialists, Jemma.”

“Neither is Skye.”

May watched her quietly for a second, her eyes critical, but kind.

“You can make whatever decision you think is best for you. I have contacts in SIS and MI6, so does Coulson and my mother. If you and Fitz choose to go back to London, I can have you both on a plane, clearing TSA by the end of the week.”

The biochemist swallowed. “I just need time to think…to talk to Fitz…”

She knew the shooting was still a sore spot between the engineer and the specialist. Even after arriving at May’s mother’s house Fitz had been actively avoiding her. She hoped the woman would understand and by the look in her eyes, May did.

“You have as long as you need. As far as HYDRA knows were still in Fury’s secret base, if they even know that much from Talbot’s men. We should be safe here.”

Those first few days after May left, there was a feeling of paranoia, panic. She could never shake the feeling that someone was following her…someone with ill intent. And now that May was back, she felt her body relax for the first time. Like a heavy, lead weight had lifted off her shoulders.

But the Chinese agent didn’t look more relaxed since arriving at her mother’s house. If anything she seemed to be on alert, more tense. The dark circles under her eyes were more evident in the afternoon light outside.

She knew that familial relationships in other cultures were often different than American ones, but the relationship between May and her mother was strange. There was no sense of familiarity between them; Simmons hadn’t seen either one of them touch since the team’s arrival.

She wasn’t sure if that was a Chinese thing…or a spy thing.

Their conversations were almost constantly in Chinese at a rapid fire pace. It was like the two were conversing on a completely different channel than the others around them. As if May’s mother didn’t want the others listening to their words or interrupting their conversation.

It was strange to hear May’s voice in anything but English, though, Simmons found. Though the language was one she found fascinating and it was strange and she felt oddly out of her depth in the unknown.

May clearly wasn’t American, but Simmons had known that from reading her file the first week on the team to find most of the Administration agent’s file blacked out or classified. Her entire family history and early were blank. There wasn’t anything on her birthday line except a year, 1981. It said was fluent in ten languages, but didn’t say which ones. There were gaps in her timeline with the agency, but any attempts to open her mission history file was blocked straight from the heart of the Triskelion.

Even before the incident with the Peruvian government, Simmons knew she wasn’t just a paper pusher, not with Level Eight security clearance.

This was the first time that Simmons had seen her out of combat attire, black Kevlar or leather. The soft edges of the tee shirt and the leggings gave her a younger appearance. But it was the bare feet that made the scientist realize just how small May was. The woman could been over five foot one inches. All her muscle groups were defined and smooth, a clear show of just _how_ athletic the woman was, but if Jemma were to stand, she would bigger than the warrior.

It suddenly made ever impossible feat she had seen the woman do even more inhuman.

Her face must have changed because May suddenly spoke.

“Simmons?”

“I’m just glad you’re back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To answer a few review questions: yes, we will be hearing more about Peggy Carter later on in the story, some heavier Philinda romance is scheduled for next chapter along with some team bonding, and we’ll also be getting some guest showing up soon. In the meantime however, we have some Melinda&Simmons comfort. Reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated! c.e.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil reminiscences and Mama May pries.

_CHAPTER SIX_

“Have you ever heard of the word jota?”

Melinda didn’t look up at the sound of Phil’s voice from the laptop in front of her as her hand scribbled rapidly in the paper pad next to her hand.  There was the sound of close footstep and a body hitting a chair before she replied.

“In English?  Pretty sure it’s a Spanish folk dance.”

Phil snorted.

“You’re playing scrabble with a rocket scientist, hacker, and a genius with three PhDs, what do you expect?”

_‘The fourth genius is in here,’_ he added quietly in his mind.  Phil tilted his head slightly when her hand kept moving at the pad and she didn’t break her concentration from the screen.  The language on the screen wasn’t one he understood and he could only stand so long behind her before she would adjust her position so he was in her eye line, the least he could do was move for her.

“I expected to at least kick Tripplett’s ass.”

_No reaction._

He strolled inside and leaned on the table, looking sideways at her.  “Find anything interesting?”

“Sent out feelers in the system but I doubt anything is going to be back for a while with the chaos from the information dump Nat caused.”

The mention of their former teammate vibrate a sore heartstring in his chest.  Without another comment, she changed the subject. 

“How’s the rest of the team?”

“Resting I think,” he said with a shrug, “trying to process everything and figure out their next moves.  Jemma seems better, you’re the one to thank for that.”

“I just told her what she needed to hear.”

His eyebrows quirked at the way she so haphazardly brushed off his attempts to gain her attention.  He frowned skeptically. 

“Have you slept?”

Her eyes jumped up to his face skeptically and his throat closed up slightly.  She was not handling this as well as he thought.  And part of that was his fault.  He had turned against her, dragging up all their past history, their past failures together before cutting her off from the group.

_“And don’t tell me it’s because you care so damn much.”_

He cringed slightly at the memory.

He had drugged her tea one morning when they were on a mission together.  A particularly nasty one in Prague.  Their other two partners had already been taken out and they were on the trail of a would be mass causality assassin.  He could reach her better back then. 

Maybe she listened better back then, he didn’t know.  But he wasn’t able to get her to slow down, take a breath, sleep.  Something back the case, the target, got under her skin.  So he took drastic measures. 

She had been furious after the fact.  She took out the target nine hours later and when they returned to base, she ripped Fury a new one for allowing Phil to do it.  But she eventually got over it.

A sentimental hand wrapped tightly around his chest.   

“I’m fine.”

Her hands were back on the keyboard, finding them a way out of their current situation before he could even respond.  He swallowed heavily. 

_I wish you didn’t have to be fine_.

::

Melinda’s wet hair dripped quietly onto the bamboo hardwood floors in her mother’s house as she kneeled in front of the large cardboard boxes that occupied one of the spare bedrooms.  Her hands went through the items, quickly scanning and searching for the article of clothing she had in mind. 

“You lied to me.”

Her mother’s soft Cantonese made her hands freeze for the briefest of seconds before continuing through the stack of neatly folded clothes.

“It’s not a big deal, māmā.”

“Phillip should be more careful with you.”

Her mother’s fingers are cold on the bullet wound on her arm before Melinda pulled away, quickly shedding on the large, long-sleeved tee shirt before her mother could see the still angry sting mark Phil had left with the ICER bullet only two weeks ago.

“It wasn’t Phil’s fault.” 

There’s no fight in the younger woman’s voice and if Lian noticed, she didn’t remark on it, continuing, “He always ends up getting you hurt.  You should have picked a team that cares more about your life.”

“That wasn’t Phil or the team, it was S.H.I.E.L.D. thinking we were HYDRA.  There was a coup going on, there was chaos.  Someone was going to get hurt.”

Melinda didn’t add, “ _and it’s better if it’s me_ ”, but her mother noticed the unspoken words, just as she always did. 

“Phillip gets you shot, _again_ , then sends you away because you were protecting him—do not think I don’t understand what was going on earlier, Qiaolian; I still have excellent agency contacts.”

Melinda sighed, and flips the lid on the cardboard boxes shut with too much force before sliding down on the floor, back against the bed, and looking up at her mother in the doorway.  Her mother’s face was hidden by shadows and even May herself couldn’t decipher what expression her mother was exhibiting, whether it be disappointment or pride.

Perhaps a mix of both. 

“And then you run back to his side days later when he realizes just how much he needs you.  You know better than that…Qiaolian, what is this?”

Melinda’s throat closed slightly and the room grew heavy around them. 

“I don’t know.”


End file.
